Ascending Lauren

This narrative is part of a multi-part story that explores the sexual exploits of a Midwestern couple who wanted a change in locale, but are experiencing much, much more.

Warning: subject matter includes hotwife/cuckold topics. This story is tagged as such, so if you do not care for these types of tales, move on. You are your only enemy if you continue reading.

Those that do choose to continue, please know reading previous chapters will help you better understand the characters and their journey.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18.

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Special note: the next few chapters attempt to chronicle a period of time when the real life Lauren and some of her girlfriends went off the rails and pretty much fucked anything that moved. It is a time when they not only cucked their husbands hard, but also had encounters which many of them are not proud of today. Please keep in mind their 'slut years' did indeed happen over a period of years, and therefore must be condensed to fit within the timelines of this fable. As such, only a few of their stories can be told here.

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January 15th. Six weeks to go.

Lauren Miller blinked as she pinched her nose between thumb and forefinger as the white powder stung her nostrils and stripped all mucus from her throat, leaving only a sweet, metallic taste behind. Getting high before work was completely out-of-character for the studious executive, but she needed help launching. No amount of espresso was going to make up for leaving Alex Cartwright's boat at three a.m., her pussy so raw it was difficult to get out of bed that morning. In that moment, the coke earned on her knees in front of Stretch Madison was worth every sperm the pretty brunette had to swallow to get it.

Ah, Alex. Agreeable, lovable Alex.

The date with the big Texan had ended exactly how Lauren had hoped, with his cock inside her, leaving her husband to masturbate while listening in. It would only have been better if Corey could have been there to see her latest lover bury that big El Paso dick deep, causing wave after wave of screaming orgasms. Yes, she was embracing his fetish, and intended on keeping her promise to serve it up every chance she got.

Alex's strict upbringing had made him a reluctant bull. Although he struggled with the idea of dating a married woman and willfully humiliating another guy, he'd shown a lot of promise as a potential boyfriend, just as Corey had suggested.

And the sex!

Sweet Jesus, the sex. Hot, sticky, voluminous...not what she had expected from a god-fearing rancher's son. Yet, there was something more to it, a tenderness unlike Lauren had experienced since giving in to Corey's kink. Most of the men she'd been with had simply used her as a toy; a cumdump and nothing more. Not that there was anything wrong with that. In fact, her experiences now had helped her remember just how gratifying no holds barred sex could be. Regardless of how considerate Corey tried to be when they made love, that was an itch he knew he couldn't scratch any longer.

But as much as she liked the rough stuff, Alex also had a mellow, tender side. Lauren hoped that Corey had heard them lying in each other's arms, whispering sweet nothings. She hoped he understood the fire he was playing with as her and Alex cuddled. It was just one more turn of the torture rack's ratchet, fulfilling her promise to cuck him relentlessly.

Cuckold.

Her heart would always belong to Corey, but the world he'd opened the door to was too exciting, too bold to go back. Lauren knew she'd become a slut of infinite proportions, and only hoped Corey could embrace

her

kinks as well.

No matter how hard she was about to shred him.

+++++

"One more!" Zane Picardo barked as his older friend struggled to complete lifts. Although Corey had been back in the gym for a couple months now, there had been little progress. After their reconciliation, he'd taken the biker's offer to help him train.

But why does it have to be before dawn?

"Atta boy," the bigger man celebrated the accomplishment. "Let's grab some water and move to the bells."

Corey nodded, twisting off a bottle cap. "Really appreciate you helping me get back into shape, brother. You should see some of the natives down there in Florida. They actually lift on the beach. I need to look good for Lauren."

"Meh, most of them fuckers got tiny dicks."

That prompted an uneasy quiet. Any mention of Lauren between the men - at least in the foreseeable future - was sure to be awkward. Corey also knew that Zane was now aware of his inadequacies and wasn't altogether sure that comment wasn't a dig.

Feeling the tension, the mechanic quickly changed the subject.

"So, um, how are the girls? Seen them lately?" It was clearly a fishing expedition.

"Not since Thanksgiving. Caroline visited Lauren over the holiday, though. Why?"

Zane spied some rather fit female gym rats and pointed them out. Corey followed his friend's gaze to the lovelies on the tread mills. Just more potential notches in his bedpost, he presumed.

Just like the one that has my wife's name engraved on it forever.

"Just checking, that's all."

Zane didn't really care about the nearby women. He was more interested in finding out why Caroline had shown up at his place with her 'stuck in town with nowhere to go" story rather than seek out her own father. That was most peculiar. And weird.

+++++

Lauren sat in her office at Rekrap Industries, still coasting on the remnants of that morning's coke, trying to stay awake. So, when a distinctive ringtone peeled from her purse, she pounced on it gratefully.

It was Chloe Ceallaigh.

"Hey babe," Lauren smiled through the phone. She could almost smell her friend's intoxicating perfume. "What's shakin'?"

"Hi there," Chloe replied hastily. "Did you get my message?"

"I did, but I've been busy. Sorry."

"You fucking johns in alleys again?"

"Of course not, I've moved on to boats now."

"Shut up! Did you do the cowboy?"

"Yeah."

"Big dick?"

"That and more. Smart, gentle, dreamy."

"Those are dangerous adjectives to use when you're married, sister."

Lauren started to respond to the insinuation but stopped. It hit a little too close to home.

"Speaking of sisters," the cute redhead continued, "you remember my suggestion? You know...that you reel in that little fantasy of yours? Put some controls around it?"

"Yeah, or I'll wind up dead."

"Right. Anyway...my side job...there's a client who has a special request."

"What's so special about it?"

"Well, for one, it can only be pulled off by two ladies who have a...considerable age difference."

"And you want me to be your sidekick?"

"Well," Chloe hesitated, "more like an older sister."

The Miller matriarch cleared her throat. She could feel the moistness forming between her legs.

"I...I see. Well, that certainly is a niche."

"Yeah, a niche that pays us each a grand."

"Chloe, I don't need the cash."

"I know you don't," the dancer conceded. "Someone like you needs

far more

than what money can buy."

Lauren knew her friend was dead on. The urge to peddle herself had been there for a long time, just suppressed underneath all that...mommy-ness.

"When?"

"Wednesday."

"This Wednesday?"

"Is that a problem?"

"I can't. Too much stuff at the office, and...and I have to get ready to go back to Iowa. Raincheck?"

There was a definite disappointment in the silence that followed, then a sigh.

"Sure, why not? I was

really

looking forward to working with you, though. Showing you the ropes."

"Maybe you can show me those ropes when I get back?" the randy office manager chuckled. "

Tight

ropes."

"Oooooh, you're getting kinky in your old age, slut."

"Whore..."

The women blew kisses at each other and hung up, leaving Lauren's panties to whisk away juicy droplets oozing from her slit. The thought of selling herself was as burning as ever, especially since those Cubans had taken her. Chloe's gig would have allowed a safer environment, of course, but was that really where the appeal was? As twisted as it seemed, the attraction for Lauren came from the leering and being a piece of meat on display. It was hot, decadent, not to mention illegal. That's what got her motor running, so much so she briefly considered taking a long lunch to visit with the Chairman of the Board, who was always eagerly awaiting her in the nightstand drawer at home.

"Mrs. Miller?"

Lauren jumped as her secretary startling her out of the daydream.

"Yes?"

"I have Mr. Alvarez on the line."

Pedro Alvarez was Rekrap's CFO.

"Put him through."

There were a few clicks, then a booming voice.

"Lauren, can you come up to the eight floor right away."

"Sure. What's up."

"Looks like we're being audited. Gonna need your help."

Lauren stared at the phone.

Shit.

She'd been through audits before and they tended to consume every waking hour.

"Of course. I'll be right there."

+++++

Corey drove through the nearly completed medical complex which had been under construction for over two years. As one of the project managers, he took immense pride in delivering it on time and only slightly over budget. Almost ready to serve the community, the only things left were some mechanical installations and a bit of flat work, items that would be done in just a few weeks. That would trigger the greatest milestone of all: his moving to Florida and unification with Lauren. While he hoped the house would sell quickly, no way would he be waiting around for a bite. Not after all this time. The realtor could handle the sale; his place was beside his wife, and it'd been too long. As the sun began to set on that Monday afternoon, he swung the old truck towards the suburbs and tuned to a favorite classic rock station.

The move to Miami would certainly be cause for celebration, but it didn't come without some trepidation. After all, Lauren had developed her own life there, along with a bevy of pretty, pretty friends around which her world now revolved. Would they accept him or consider him an outsider? While he'd always been the friendly, outgoing sort, could a hard rock loving, t-shirt and bell bottom kind of guy from the Midwest fit in with the 'it' crowd? Maybe...maybe not.

And what of the lovers Lauren had amassed along the way?

Max, the club owner.

Ground zero. Where it all started. Apparently, something of a bull, Lauren had arranged their first ever threesome with him, on a billionaire's yacht no less.

Tommy, the neighbor.

A college athlete with a big heart and an even bigger cock. He seemed very appreciative of the opportunity to fuck a MILF like Lauren.

Tony, Tommy's fraternity brother.

A cocky son-of-a-bitch who appeared to get off on cucking Corey. The guy could dish it out, reveling in making the older man squirm. In an odd way, the kid was currently the running favorite.

Those other frat kids, Hunter and Roman.

Tony's friends who helped destroy Lauren in a limo, which ended with her blowing the driver to pay for leaving a mess. That encounter solidified her as a burgeoning slut.

Steve Hamilton.

The Rekrap engineer who fancied himself a bull but was too wrapped up in his own fantasies. Corey had flown in unexpectedly and caught Lauren on a chance date with that head case.

Amy Rosinner.

One hot fucking blonde and one of Lauren's best friends. A legal secretary at Rekrap, the two went out partying quite a bit. To Corey's knowledge, Amy was his wife's first lesbian lover. The images of those two in bed with Tony and Tommy were seared in his brain forever - and he had a video to prove it.

Jax, the porn star apparent.

From all accounts, a professional bull and star of several adult films. Fucked Lauren to within inches of her life.

Chloe, the exotic dancer and sometimes escort.

A cunning and sexy twenty-year-old redhead who was wise beyond her years. Looking to retire at thirty, she was another one of Lauren's lovers. Pure sex-on-a-stick, this one even let Corey bust a nut in her. Seemed Lauren and Amy hung out a lot at the strip club Chloe worked at; indicating a clear shift in his wife's attitude.

In between all that partying, his wife had also found time to prostitute herself, in both the traditional and corporate sense, giving in to a newfound fetish of her own. He didn't really consider those Cubans 'friends'. They were more like paying customers, and her banging the owner of that chemical company to secure a contract was textbook corporate whoring, pure and simple.

And now...

Alex Cartwright.

Of all her 'pals', this one worried Corey the most. Certainly, he couldn't blame her for being attracted to the big fella. He was a mountain of a man with a quiet demeanor, and ostensibly had the equipment necessary to please a woman. That is, if Lauren's screams had meant anything.

Tex also seemed to possess the disposition of a benevolent bull; albeit a reluctant one. This would be key if Lauren continued to see him. Although alpha in almost everything, Corey had found being a beta in the bedroom most intriguing. Being humiliated in the right moment was overwhelmingly hot. He knew it didn't make sense...hell, nothing these days did...but it did excite him to no end. Having someone willing to help cultivate that penchant was a lucky find indeed.

That was, of course, if Lauren didn't fancy him

too

much. Corey had read about wives in the lifestyle leaving their husbands in the dust for a lover, and Alex definitely checked all those boxes. Perhaps too much. Her other encounters had been purely about the sex and acquiescing to Corey's kinks. It was hard to put his finger on it, but there seemed to be a connection between her and this guy that went far beyond the 'wham bam, thank you ma'am'. And therein lied the danger.

After all, it wasn't the sharing of her body that bothered Corey the most; it was the sharing of her heart.

+++++

Zane gestured a quick goodbye to his ride and hustled through the bone chilling wind to the front door of the house he'd once shared with his wife Abby. After being married and childless for nearly ten years, she'd taken the truck, half his salary, and most of the furniture in the divorce. Thankfully, he got Bessy and the house. And he suspected the only reason her lawyers didn't come after that is because she didn't want to be bothered with the cost of home ownership. Whatever.

Twisting the key in the lock, he swore that someday he'd get a four-wheeled beater of his own so he didn't have to bum rides in the winter. Opening the door, a savory aroma hit his nostrils, the kind which had not been smelled there for a long, long time.

"I'm in here, Uncle Zane!"

As her godfather walked into the kitchen and set down his backpack, Caroline Miller giggled at the greasy uniform.

"Ew, someone needs a shower."

"Later. I have to finish seating Bessy. You know,

someone

interrupted me last night and I didn't get to finish."

"Sorrrreeee. Maybe you'll get to finish tonight."

Zane stopped splashing water on his face, wondering if the double entendre was intentional, or he was just a dirty old man. He ignored it and grabbed a hand towel.

"I got the text. Sucks your flight was cancelled."

"True that. But there's one first thing in the morning. Don't worry, I'll take a ride-share."

"Good. Not sure Clyde is available tomorrow. No worries, looks like you'll be here another night. You know where the bedroom is."

"Indeed, I do," Caroline smiled coyly. "Care for some meatloaf?"

"Seriously? How'd you manage that from sandwich meat and beer?"

"No, silly," she laughed, pulling off the lid to the crock pot and inhaling. "I found some frozen hamburger in the freezer. It was like a year old, but what the heck? Add brown sugar and some condiments...meatloaf!"

Zane couldn't help his eyes drifting to the cute brunette's butt as she bent over to remove potatoes from the oven. Then reality smacked him in the face.

That's your goddaughter for Christ's sake.

+++++

The meal was one of the best the biker had eaten in some time. Chef Derrick had some good shit down at the diner, but this was off the chain. Luckily, Lauren's talent in the kitchen had apparently been passed on. After grabbing a beer, he holed up in the garage and began installing a newly acquired seat on his Harley-Davidson Cruiser. Picardo longed for the day when he could finally take her out of winter mothballs and go for a long ride without freezing his nuts off. Soon, he told himself, rubbing the gas tank with love...soon.

It was while Zane was hanging the 7/16" on the work bench that his house guest slowly sauntered into the garage and straddled the machine he so loved. In fact, he nearly dropped a wrench when he turned and saw Caroline with a foot on the crank and both hands on the handlebars. Gone were the soft sweater and comfortable jeans, replaced by tight shiny black leather pants, matching ankle boots, and his own favorite riding jacket. Gone was the innocent persona of the family friend he had watched grow up. That face was now covered with dark, gothic makeup and the jacket...the jacket was unzipped with absolutely nothing underneath. No blouse, no bra, nothing. Just plenty of naked skin, from her lovely neck to delectable navel.

"Enjoy your dinner, Uncle Zane?" she asked. "Still hungry?"

The biker slammed his jaw shut, trying to avoid staring at the girl thirty years his junior.

"I'm good."

Caroline pulled one of the flaps of the jacket back and flashed a tit and hard nipple.

Picardo stared out the window. "Aren't you a little chilly?"

She looked down and covered herself. "Oops, I guess I am."

Now, the mechanic was not a meek man. Late fifties, divorced, and still with a strong sex drive. Under any other circumstances he wouldn't have hesitated in picking up what this chick was laying down. But this was not just any girl. This was his friends' daughter. A no-go zone.

A no-go? Uh huh, sure buddy boy, just like her mother was, huh? How'd that turn out?

"I think it's time you go back in..."

Yep, that was definitely the right response. His eyes flitted from the window to the bike, then back again. Damned if she wasn't the spitting image of her mother, whorish makeup and all.

Caroline tilted that toothsome head to one side and held out her phone. "Sure, anything you say. In a minute. Mind taking a few pictures of me on your bike first?"

Zane's eyes narrowed. He sensed imminent peril.

"I..."

"Puh-leeze? For my boyfriend. Honest."

"I'm not very good at taking pictures."

Caroline's pretty face lost all expression.

"That's not what mother told me."

Zane's mouth ran dry.

"What exactly did she tell you?"

"Cut the shit. You know," Caroline purred, climbing off the bike and inching closer.

What her mom had told her was nothing, really; it was all conjecture. But it hadn't taken much to figure out. She'd gone out of town with the mechanic to that award ceremony - wearing the sluttiest of clothes - and the two had spent the night in Bakersfield. What else was there to know?

And the younger Miller wanted some of that too.

"No, Cee, I don't know. Try me."

"That's exactly why I'm here. To try you."

Jesus Fucking Christ.

There it was, he had his answer. No more pretending.